An Emotion Leak.

The Ever Dying Lines

Poetry 546

The ever dying lines 

One alacritous rug rat,
of lot mores of Lores.
Long he envisaged it,
the endless beyond.

A heart, of nothing,
he yearns to fill in.
With wisdom and
love, here forth.

A bairn heart,
illume inside.
Still inflame,
bright red.

A reason,
be it all,
is one.

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